In the Garden Sleeps a Messenger
by Karma
Summary: The Second Sorceress War is over, and everyone's gone back to where they need to be. However, a mysterious kidnapping disrupts everyone's ideal of a peaceful, normal existance, and our heroes are now back on the job (centers mostly around Irvine, but inv
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer:** I think pretty much everyone out there knows I don't work for Squaresoft, much less own it, so yes, I openly admit that FF8, Selphie, Irvine, the Ragnarok, and whatever elements from the game mentioned here don't belong to me. Duh. However, this story itself was my own creation, and you are welcome to reprint it anywhere you like, as long as you credit me as the author, and e-mail me letting me know._

A/N: Okay, so this story is kind of angst, sue me. Comments and criticsm are not only accepted, they are asked for. For an optimum reading experience, download "Love Song For My Mom" by Moby, and listen to it while reading. All kinds of yummy emotional goodness. ^_^ Prologue. 

"Remove your hat boy, you're in a holy place, for crying out loud." 

Irvine did what he was told, and quickly removed his dark brown cowboy hat, holding it infront of him. The sheer size of the mausoleum left him feeling small inside, and the room was so impossibly _grey_ that it seemed like he and his typical jeans, chaps, duster and bright purple vest were some kind of anachronism, from an era when color was openly accepted and appreciated, into a place where anything but the bleakness of death was considered taboo. Even the Preist himself, in his red and white robes seemed somewhat out of place.

Expansive marble ceilings decorated with elegant arches loomed above him, almost inviting him to ascend into what was beyond. The walls were dotted with holders containing unlit torches, and the Preist quickly strode over to one of them and, with a wave of his hand, casted Fire on it causing it to burst into flame. He removed it from its position on the wall and began to make a circuit around the room, lighting each torch on the wall, waking the mausoleum from its musty sleep. The tomb seemed reluctant to yeild to the torches' attempts to shed more light on the situation, but sleepily complied anyway. 

It was then that Irvine noticed the statues.

Some standing little more than a foot off the ground and others close to eight feet tall, they seemed to dance in the flickering light. The cowboy resisted the urge to shiver at their eerie cavorting. Each statue accompanied its respective sarcophagi, and one in particular caught his eye. Without even asking the Preist for confirmation, he knew in an instant he had found what it was he was looking for.

She was beautiful, and one glance told him that she was modeled after her real-life counterpart. Both Irvine and the statue sported the same fine bone structure, the same laughing smile, the same tall and wiry frame.

"She was quite a woman." came the voice of the Priest.

"--I know." Irvine said quietly. He didn't know exactly _how_ he knew; he just did. She was sitting on a slab of marble, one arm behind her, one on the sarcophagus, face tilted upwards. Her face was in an expression of genuine peace, tranquility, and maybe a little...wonder, was it? Her hair, although impossible to tell the color, was braided loosely in back. She was dressed in flowing robes, which seemed out of place on a character such as this. His mother wore clothing similar to his, suitable for the environment he was born into, a desertic landscape with little water and much brush. That much he knew.

But it was the final feature that caused Irvine to actually reach out and touch the statue. A pair of gorgeous wings extended from her back, reaching out and upwards. 

"Quite a lovely statue," the Preist said wistfully, "When Alenna died, the citizens of the village pooled their money to pay for its creation. They wanted people to remember her for not only how she was physically, but how she was in spirit." Irvine turned to the Priest.

"I thought wings were symbolic of Sorceresses only," he shook his head, "I am quite sure that my mother was not a Sorceress." the Priest fell silent for a moment, then spoke up again.

"No, not a Sorceress. But we thought it might be fitting to provide your mother with wings to ensure a more safe passage to the Other World," he smiled warmly, "And I think it fits her in life."

"Would--would it be alright if you could leave me and...her...alone for a few moments? I'd like to pay my respects." The Priest nodded wordlessly, placed his torch in the wall, and exited the tomb.

Irvine made his way over to the front of the sarchophagus itself. It was huge for just one woman alone, but he figured there might be several coffins inside this one. He leaned over the huge marble casing and carefully wiped away the dust covering the inscription on the top.

"Alenna Craft

died 25

What was seen is now unseen.  
From old life there comes a new.  
Yet in our hearts, our minds, our souls,  
ye shall forever remain.

Amen."

Gloved fingers traced the recesses of the letters gently, softly, as if probing a wound of an old friend. Lips formed the name for the first time, and Irvine savored the name out loud. It was only a week ago that he had learned that this place, a small village named Morsa, housed the final resting place of his long-lost mother. Only three days ago that he learned that his born name was not Kinneas, but Craft. Kinneas had been his adopted name, given to him by people who loved him but could never understand the bond formed between a mother and her son, even in the last minutes of that mother's life and the first of the newborn child. 

For all he knew, his father was still alive and out there. Even the village historian himself could not tell Irvine where his father had gone after his mother's death. All he knew was that he had given his only son up for adoption early in his life, simply because he had big dreams and could not take care of his own flesh and blood.

But now, after all that searching, the first part of his journey had reached an end. Only Hyne knew when exactly the next half would begin, he was still training to be a SeeD, and the time granted to him in which to begin his quest was actually supposed to be used for rest and recuperation. Probably only once he completed his training and become a SeeD would he be granted more time to search. 

However, now wasn't the time to think about such things. He only had a little while longer to pay his respects; Selphie was waiting for him in the Ragnarok. And while he knew she would wait for him as long as he needed, he knew this final stage of his visit itself would take a while.

Gathering up his courage, he spoke his first words ever to his mother.

"Mother, I know you can hear me...wherever you are. And I hope that wherever that place may be, that you're happy. I've never been really good at heart-to-heart talks, and I know this might seem awkward now, but this might be the first and last time in a long while I'll get to talk to you again." he straightened up from his position over the huge marble coffin, and got into a more comfortable position: sitting on the floor, with his back against the stone, "Where should I begin? It's hard to find a starting place amongst seventeen years worth of life, and a thousand years worth of events. I know you're probably not very happy with how I turned out. I can't really blame you, I wouldn't want my only son to turn out like me either. I have no one to blame but myself for my actions, but I think now that I've been through all that I've been through I can safely say that I have changed for the better. 

"Is that what it takes to make a self-absorbed person realize how tiny and insignificant he really is? Some kind of universe-changing event? 

"Well, for better or worse, here I am, repenting of all my sins to a lifeless body...but my own body came from that. Does that make me a son of death? How many sons of death are there out there? Daughters? Now I am not alone. Squall's mother died, and so did Rinoa's. Quistis, Zell, and Selphie don't even know how their mothers died. Or their fathers, for that matter. I suppose I'm lucky to know that he's still around, but if I were to find him, would I actually want to meet him? I blame him partially for what I have become, because he left me voluntarily for his own reasons. But you...I could never blame you. Why? Because I'm the reason you're dead. I'm the reason you've ceased to exist on this plane, when it should have been me. And...I want you to know that I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry for putting you in this stupid tomb, I'm sorry that I made my father leave, I'm sorry for being the person that I am. I wish there was a way to make it up to you...

"I take that back. Now I realize something. Mother, I helped save everyone. I helped save so many people from horrifying deaths. Does that make up for all the lives that I have taken? Do lives outweigh each other in number, or in worth? How can I know wether taking the life of one person outweighs saving the lives of a thousand others? A million? Is that true? Or do numbers really count? And if they do, am I saved? Am I released from this purgatory, not knowing where I'm to go when I die? Or maybe I'm wrong on both counts. Maybe lives aren't outweighed by quality or quantity, but in different aspects of one person. Each life lost is Earth-shattering in its own way, each death decides how countless other people are to live their own lives.

"Now, I guess, all I can do is wait. Wait to become a SeeD. Wait to find my father. Wait to meet you after all is said and done. But before I walk out this huge marble door, and shut it on you for another amount of deathly silence, I want to know one thing.

"Are you proud of me?"


	2. The Disturbance

_**Disclaimer:** All the usual stuff. FF8 and all it's affiliated characters and blah blah blah aren't mine. I wish Irvine was mine, but that's another case entirely. Some of the elements used in the story were the ideas of an anonymous donor (Ooh, spooky! And yes, I am telling the truth here), but most of it is mine, including the writing itself (Unfortunatley ^_~). _

**A/N:** Short an' sweet, little cliffhanger here, but not to worry, the second chapter is being finished up as we speak. Sountrack? Try "You Complete Me" by Stabbing Westward. Chapter One. 

_When his blue-green eyes opened for the first time the feeling surrounding him was not unlike what he was feeling right now. It was cold, wet, and clammy. _

He trailed a hand along the stone walls of the corridor, they were slick with the green moss that had grown from ages of neglect. Placing a hand at his side to make sure he was carrying his Exeter with him, he breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the cool metal barrel of the shotgun. He had grown so accustomed to having it there on his hip that his body tended to forget wether or not there was anything there and compensate for the weight.

He didn't know how long he had been walking along the corridors nor how far he had come. The complete absence of monsters, spirits, or other baddies led him to believe that where he was was not entirely hostile, but he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that loomed over him.

"Why am I here...?" he pondered out loud, his voice bouncing down the walls of the hallway. To save someone. Yes yes, that much he knew. He was here to bring someone back, someone very close to him. But who?

"IRVINE!"__

The decidedly female voice pierced his thoughts as if right on cue, and he looked around to see where the voice had come from. 

"Irvine, please help me!"

"S-Selphie?" he stuttered, frozen in place, eyes still darting around.

"Irvine, please help! I-it's got me!" 

He began to run. There was only one place the voice would be coming from, and that was straight ahead. 

"Selphie, is that you? Hold on, hon, I'm coming!"

"Irvine, no, you don't understand! I can't hold on, it's--it's--oh Hyne, it's crawling up my LEG--"

There was a light up ahead, growing steadily bigger. Irvine stopped in his tracks and backed up a bit. Bigger than it should be. He crouched and threw his arms over his face as it rushed up the hallway and enveloped him--

--and then he fell out of bed.

"What in the name of friggin' fraggin--!?" he hopped up, trying to untangle his legs from the bedsheets.

"Yo, man, shut up already..." came the muffled voice from the bed across the room. An arm snaked it's way out from under the covers and waved itself blindly at him, "It's 3 in the morning." 

Irvine glanced at the clock on his bedside. It was, indeed, 3 a.m. And here he was, in his room, recovering from nothing but some nightmare. 

"--whoops!" he cried as he tried to climb back onto the mattress but the tangle of linen pulled him back down to the floor. The figure in the other bed made an exasperated noise and rolled back over, putting a pillow over his head. Irvine grinned sheepishly at his disgruntled roomate and, very carefully, made his way over to his bed and sat down on it.

"Talk about some kooky dream," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his long auburn hair--or, at least, trying to. It was horribly matted. "Well, this is just great. Now I'm completely wired--," he sighed, trying to free his hands from the tangled mass on his head.

"--And I can't get my hand out of my HAIR--" after a few more futile attempts at detangle-ment, he just jerked really hard, which seemed to work quite well. Sighing again, he stood, stepping gingerly over the sheets on the floor--last thing he needed right now was the roomate to report him to the headmaster for being inconsiderate, "Might as well take a little walk around the Garden. Maybe seeing all those classrooms'll make me tired again."

Tiptoeing toward the bathroom, he grabbed his vest, chaps, and duster off of a chair nearby. He emerged a few seconds later, hair pulled into some semblance of his usual ponytail, and changed out of the ugly Garden-issue nightclothes. Then, putting on his hat, he flung the door to the dormitory wide open.

"DUDE! Turn out the LIGHT!" came his roommate's wail, and, just out of spite, Irvine began to march down the hallway, leaving the door agape. A muttered curse came, then the door slammed itself shut rather loudly behind his back. Grinning to himself, he clasped his hands behind him and begain sauntering down the halls of Galbadia Garden.

* * *

How long had it been now, since he had talked to the others back in Balamb? Too long. Sure, he corresponded with Selphie on a pretty much daily basis, but it had seemed like eons ago that he had talked to Squall, or Zell, or Quistis...

Mmm...Quistis. He smirked to himself. Sure, she would never even think of giving him the time of day, but he was convinced that deep down inside even she couldn't resist the ol' Irvine charm. Okay, sure, fine, Selphie was the one for him, but that doesn't mean he couldn't partake in a little friendly flirting now and then. And he had to admit, Quistis was probably the--for lack of a better word--_hottest_ of all his friends. Why she was still single was beyond him.

And Rinoa? How long had it been since he'd seen _her_? Man...she was back in Timber with those two goofs, Zone and Watts. Hyne knew what they were doing there, seeing as there was nothing really to resist anymore, but hey, to each his (or, in this case, her) own. No way there would be any flirting there, though. Not if he wanted Squall to royally whup his butt. Even so, he resolved that sooner or later, he'd have to make a personal visit. 

But his mind returned to Selphie. Oh, Hyne, he missed her so much. Writing her just wasn't the same as actually being there, being able to talk to her face-to-face, hear her voice, touch her hair. And that _ smile_. He could never see her again for a million years, but that smile was always embedded in his memory. No Guardian Force could ever take that smile away from him...he'd fight for it, as long as he had the will. He'd fight for her, just like Squall would fight for Rinoa, just as Seifer had fought for Edea. He felt odd thinking things like that. The Great Irvine Kinneas, ladies' man extradorinaire, willing to put his own life on the line for that of one young woman. It seemed surreal, like a break from the norm, but it didn't feel bad. It felt like in the end, no matter how bad things got, he'd always have some kind of closure to hold on to, to strive for.

So now he had to see her. He could afford to do it...just take one day off from classes, hop on a train, and ride to Timber, and then from there on to Balamb. It made sense, since Timber was on the way.

That was it, then. "May as well check my mail before I go, though," he thought to himself, stepping into the nearest classroom, "Selphie might have written me back."

Sliding into the chair infront of the terminal, he entered in his student I.D. and password then began to scroll through his e-mail.

"Hmm...let's see here...tuition bills, junk mail, letter from Martine, letters from Gina, Tori, and Morgan..." sighing, he sat back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. Nothing from Selphie--but what was this? He leaned forward. It was from Squall. That was odd. Frowning, he double clicked the icon, bringing up the new window with Squall's well-typed, however brief, message.

_Kinneas:_

I don't know when you're going to get this, but you need to come to Balamb as soon as you get this Headmaster has given the okay. There has been a kidnapping, and two people are dead. Quistis, Selphie, and Xu are missing. Hurry.

He read the message once, then twice to make sure that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. No way this was possible. The girls were kidnapped? 

Nuh-uh, something was messed up. The same girls who had been through the end of the world, literally, were not going to let themselves just be dragged off. Exhaling shakily, he tried to get his bearings. Okay, so he'd go to straight to Balamb. He had no clue what would happen once he got there, but he figured Squall would figure something out. He always did.


	3. The Alias

_**Disclaimer:** Yadda yadda yadda...characters aren't mine, story is, blah blah blah..._

**A/N:** As always, C&C is not only accepted, but encouraged. Soundtrack, ladies and gentlemen, is "Hello Time Bomb" by Matthew Good Band.

* * *

"KINNEAS!" someone yelled at him from down the hall. He was just about to head out the door, and he silently cursed. Why was everyone screaming at him all of the sudden? Turning, he stiffened as he realized that it was the Headmaster.

"H-Headmaster Dodonna!" he stuttered, fumbling for the usual charming facade he usually put on for his teachers.

"Where exactly are you going, Kinneas?" the man surveyed him suspiciously with cold, calculating grey eyes. Trens Dodonna was the new headmaster at Galbadia Garden, after Martine had officially handed in his resignation. Garden had offered him back his position as Headmaster shortly after the Second Sorceress War ended, but he refused, saying that he had other dreams to tend to in his own life. So now Galbadia Garden was stuck with Trens Dodonna, a man in his mid-forties with eyes as colorless as his hair. 

It wasn't talked much about what Dodonna had done before being offered Headmaster position, or what exactly qualified him as being worthy of the title. He wasn't bad at his job, though. In fact, he was quite the opposite. He simply lacked the charisma was all, and students wondered if maybe he lacked the compassion that was needed to properly direct Garden in the event of another major battle. And what he was doing up at three in the morning was way beyond Irvine.

Trens certainly didn't look like he gave a hoot about what might happen to him after he was found wandering the halls after curfew. Gathering himself together, Irvine searched his mind for an answer that was both vague and satisfactory, but instead just decided maybe he should tell the truth. Worse for him if he came back after skipping a few days. Who knew how many demerits that'd mean.

"--I got a letter, Headmaster." Dodonna frowned, then nodded.

"Ah yes, that. Cid called me a little bit before eleven last night, informing me that there was a crisis. He implored to let you leave campus, so I granted him that much," he smiled, "You're becoming quite the celebrity, even over there."

"Sir, this is no laughing matter. My friends are missing, and two people are dead because of it."

"You're right, that's true," the smile dissapeared, "I was just hoping that maybe you'd let me KNOW before leaving campus for Hyne-knows-how- long." He did have a point.

"You're right, I should have--"

"Ten demerits." Irvine's shoulders sagged, "For leaving your room without permission and carrying a deadly weapon on campus after curfew." the sharpshooter blinked and checked his holster. 

"--But, I'm not--" Dodonna handed him his Exeter, "--how did you--?"

"--AND, Mr. Kinneas, you are lurking around the grounds right after a confidential staff meeting."

"Staff meeting? Oh, no sir. I didn't know anything about a staff meeting."

"I'm sure you didn't."

"No, seriously, I--"

"There's a train stopping at East Academy Station in twenty minutes. If you walk at a fast clip, you should make it." Dodonna cut him off. 

Okay, this was too weird. What was Dodonna thinking? What secret meeting? That explained why he was out so late, but still...

"...okay. Thank you sir." He saluted the older man. Trens nodded.

"Get going, you're going to need all the time you can get."

"Yes sir." Irvine backed towards the exit, still keeping his eyes on the Headmaster. Dodonna's eyes never left his. Thoroughly spooked, he turned around and jogged out the front gate of Galbadia Garden.

* * *

The train ride was Hell, pure and simple. Suddenly the sleep that had eluded him before was now bearing down on him full force, and it was all he could do to keep from nodding off. He took another sip from the mug he held in his hands and made a face. The coffee tasted like it was days old. It probably was. 

His legs and back were stiff from being cramped in such a small area for too long. Especially now that the anxiety was starting to set in. 

Looking out the window next to his seat, he watched the landscape glide past. The sky was tinged with pink on the horizon, and he checked his watch. 6:00. The train had just recently emerged from the winding under-seas tunnel connecting Balamb and Dollet stations. In fact, if he craned his neck, he could see Balamb growing steadily larger in the distance.

He frustratedly kicked the back of the empty seat infront of him. Just like Squall to leave him with just the right amount of information to make him worry, but not enough to give him any kind of possible explanation.

"Welcome to Balamb!" the annoyingly perky voice came over the PA, "We hope you'll enjoy your stay!"

"Yeah, me too." Irvine shot back at the plastic grate over his head, grabbing his gun off the seat next to him and hauling it off the train.

* * *

Stepping into the third floor office of Balamb Garden, one might think that Squall would've kept things a tad more under control. But that would make too much sense.

Cadets and SeeDs alike were running all over the place with no apparent destination. Squall was leaning over a computer console, keeping his eyes trained on the screen but barking out orders nonetheless. Nida was scrawling something on a nearby information board so fast it was practically indecipherable, at the same time pointing things out to a boy with green hair leaning lazily against a wall. Zell was nowhere to be found. 

"I need all able-bodied personnel with student IDs ending in even numbers to resume transporting injured students to the infirmary. Students with even informal training in medicine are to report to Dr. Kadowaki. Odd-numbered students are to be stationed in various areas of Garden as to keep watch. Their stations are determined by where they are designated the first hour of the day." Squall never had failed to impress Irvine. He had come so far in his training as a commander, now even situations as monumental as this one didn't break his cool exterior. His voice was complete authority, and a girl standing still long enough to listen to him quickly nodded and hopped on the elevator leading to the PA system on the bridge.

Irvine strode over to Squall and tapped him on the shoulder. The SeeD commander turned to face him, and blinked.

"I wasn't expecting you here so soon."

"I got on a train as soon as I heard," he motioned to the chaos around him, "So, like, what's the story?" Squall pointed to a chair.

"Sit down," Irvine complied, "Okay, as of 2300 hours last night, I recieved an intercom message from Quistis in her dorm. It was garbled and as far as I could tell there were sounds of struggle in the background. I couldn't make out what was being said, but one word that she kept saying was 'messenger'. When I got to her dorm, she was gone along with her weapon, and the place was a complete mess. There was no blood on the floor. I called everyone to a meeting five minutes later, but we noticed that both Xu and Selphie were missing. When checked, their dorms showed the same signs as Quistis: No bodies, no blood, but definite signs of struggle. We also discovered that several other females had been attacked within that same time frame, almost all seriously injured. One lethally."

"So what happened to the other person who died?"

"The other person was a male. He was in the same room with a girl who was attacked, her name was Kina Troupe, and when whatever it was tried to attack her, he got in the way and was..." Squall hesitated a little, "dismembered." Irvine felt his stomach fall to his feet.

"Did the assailants leave anything behind?"

"No. But that's not all. Around 600 hours this morning, I got a call from Zone and Watts. Apparently, Rinoa had been attacked too that very same night, but was not abducted. She was found unconcious by Zone in a pool of blood. We believe that her new powers as a Sorceress may have helped her ward off the attacker." Now Squall was visibly swaying. Irvine stood up and put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"--Hey, I'm sorry about that, man. Listen, if you want--"

"No. No, I'm fine. You need to know what's going on if we all want to get something figured out."

"Could anyone recount what they looked like?"

"Almost every account is different. We've got stories of wolves the size of bears, ruby dragons, we've even got a few Adels running around, apparently." he chuckled a litte, but Irvine frowned.

"You're hiding something," he observed, "What were some others?" 

"Well...there's a girl down in the infirmary who is convinced that I was the one who attacked her. She said that I threatened to cut her tounge out, and when she screamed, I sliced her side." he sighed, "And you know what's odd about that, too? Every single account matches the wounds on that girl's body. The one who said I attacked her? The gashes on her body are the exact same kind caused by the Lionheart."

This was all too much. All of this dumped on him all of the sudden, he felt himself starting to give way. His hand shot out to catch himself on the edge of a computer console. Squall stepped back, giving the sniper room to breathe.

"Are you going to be okay?" Irvine nodded. Now wasn't the time to crack. Squall had probably been running himself ragged since this whole ordeal started, the Garden was wide awake, and he simply couldn't be the only one gasping for air. Too much was at stake. Quistis. Xu. Selphie. He couldn't let down all those girls in the infirmary. He couldn't let Squall down.

_Selphie..._

No. Just find out what it was you need to do. Don't stop to think. Don't stop to let it all sink in. Just block all those facts out of your mind, take aim, and fire. That's what you're trained to do.

"What do you need me to do?"


	4. The Psyche

_**Disclaimer:** I own FF8. My name is Hinorobu Sakaguchi, I live in Japan, and am a multibillioniare. I own Irvine, Squall, Zell, and all those other happy little people in my story. They're all mine. So I'm home free._

Syke.

**A/N:** Got tired of waiting? ^_~ Sorry about that, I'll try and get things rolling more quickly now that things are about to pick up. (Hinthint). Thanks so much for the great feedback I've been getting, please keep it coming! I'd love to know what you think about this chapter, and the next, and the next! Oh, and to answer yer question...yes, we will meet Seifer quite soon. Hold yer horses. ;-P Soundtrack: "Stupefied" by Disturbed (Oh, I am so very original). Chapter four.

* * *

Squall was relieved that Irvine wasn't cracking under fire again. When you need all the manpower you can get, someone who's having a nervous breakdown won't cut it, unfortunatley. Now he was picking apprehensively at the sleeves of his jacket. Oh boy.

"Reassure me that you're up to this, please." Squall narrowed his eyes. Irvine nodded, not looking up.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." He relaxed, though only a bit.

"Good. Now here's what I need you to do." he turned back to the console and scrolled down a list of figures, "Go down to the infirmary. Zell's down there, wading through blood and trauma. See if you can get any more stories out of the girls, help out with first aid if at all possible." 

"Gotcha." Irvine turned to leave, but Squall caught him by the arm.

"One thing."

"...yeah?" Leather-gloved hands placed a small object in the palm of Irvine's fingerless ones. He blinked, "This is a stun stick."

"Be careful." was all he said. Irvine pulled away, sliding the device in his jacket pocket and heading to the door.

"You can count on me. I won't fail."

"Don't."

* * *

"Oh man, Irvine, am I glad to see you!" Zell was running down the hall towards him.

"What's up?" He the blonde began hopping around madly; did the guy EVER get drained?

"It's a madhouse in there. They've got girls in there who scream every time they see me, they think I tried to kill them. You'd think you were in some kind of insane asylum--" he grabbed Irvine by the shoulders and began hauling him towards the infirmary, "You have to see it to believe it, but brace yourself."

Insane asylum was an understatement, Irvine realized once he set foot in Dr. Kadowaki's infirmary. There were chairs set up all over the entryway with the lesser injured, more sane female students were propped up against them with icepacks, splints and what-have-you. The door in the back of the lobby was wide open, and row after row of hospital beds were full of screaming, crying, or otherwise disturbed girls. The smell of blood and sweat was overpowering.

A short, round, elderly woman ran up to the two young men, red-faced but not out of breath.

"Hey, Dr. Kadowaki. What's the story?"

"About time more help came, boys. Now get your butts in that room and start from the front and work your way back. And remember, don't push them. If you can't get anything, leave them alone, come back later." Nodding, Irvine steeled himself and let Zell lead him into the back room.

The sight was enough to make a grown man cry, and now Irvine was feeling a lump in rise in the back of his throat. Even Zell seemed to suddenly become more subdued. Young women, SeeD and future SeeD alike, people Irvine and Zell were used to see on a daily basis all clean and well groomed were all in various states of the most gruesome dissary they'd ever seen, dressed in what they had probably been wearing to bed that night. While some were lying almost deathly still and pale in their beds, a few in the back had forced Dr. Kadowaki and other medical assistants to strap them to the bed lest they hurt themselves. Altogether, they made one collective wail that made Irvine wonder why he couldn't hear it when he was on the third floor. 

Zell, noticing the pained expression on Irvine's face, said sympathetically, "You get used to it after a while. The noise, that is. Come on, we'd better get to work." The cowboy mutely made his way over to the first bed. 

The girl couldn't have been more than thirteen, deathly pale and wheezing. How he was going to get any information out of someone like this seemed like some kind of paradox, and as her eyes rolled towards him, she inhaled sharply, painfully. Basic instinct kicked in.

"Hi there," he said, using his best lady-charming smile, "How ya' doing?"

"Don't--don't--" 

"Don't what?"

"Don't...touch...me!" each word sounded as though it were being ripped from the poor girl's lungs, and Irvine winced visibly. Checking the small bracelet around her wrist, he looked for her name. Wish Ronstadt.

"Look, Wish. Save your breath. I won't force you to say anything."

"Go...away." 

"...okay. Goodbye, Wish. Hope you get better soon." he stood, and headed towards the next bed.

"She had her vocal chords injured." an unfamiliar voice from behind him said. Whirling around, he realized it was the green-haired boy he had seen with Nida upstairs.

"Who--"

"Aidan Morose," he interrupted, offering a hand. Irvine took it and shook.

"Morose? Hey, I'm sorry man."

"Oh shut up. I get enough about it from the chicks, I don't need it from you. Although--" Aidan reached behind Irvine and tugged at his ponytail, "I could very well place you in that category."

"Yeah, yeah," Irvine shot back, slapping the hand away, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go look for clues as to the whereabouts of my best friends."

"Let me help. That's what I was sent down here for." Irvine sat down next to the second bed without so much as glancing at Aidan.

"Then help somewhere else." The girl had her eyes closed, she was sleeping. Irvine debated wether it was worth it or not to wake her.

"--I wouldn't touch her if I were you."

"Oh yeah? Why not?"

"Because--" suddenly, the girl's eyes opened, and as soon as she caught sight of Irvine, they widened in terror, and she would have backed right off the bed if Aidan hadn't caught her. The bandage around her chest lifted a little, and he realized that she had been shot in the shoulder. More than once.

The girl's tearing screams were now added to the rising and falling symphony of wails and moans, and her face was twisted in terror.

"Whoa! Hey--!" Aidian hopped around, trying to keep on balance while the girl he was holding was pushing him over, trying to get away. He looked at Irvine, "You'd better leave," he shouted over the girl's terrified screams. 

"Um, yeah. Sounds about right." Irvine responded, resisting the urge to throw up, and stumbling backwards towards the exit. 

She had thought it was him that tried to kill her. Well, he couldn't blame her, if he was in her position, he'd think the same thing.

But why...? He had never seen that girl before in his life. Whatever had attacked it had taken his form, however. What did it mean?

Forget it. Again. Just concentrate on the task on hand. He couldn't possibly go back into that room again...right now scaring someone to death wouldn't make Squall too happy. 

"Irvine? What's wrong?" Dr. Kadowaki stopped scribbling notes on a pad on her desk and came towards him.

"I'm sorry Doctor, but I can't go back in there. There's a girl who thinks..."

"--Ah yes, I see."

"...and as long as I'm in that room she'll probably end up killing her own self." The doctor nodded, then motioned to the door.

"Alright then, you can go. No use in having you here when you can be helping Squall somewhere else." Sighing, Irvine headed for the door one more time. 

* * *

"Oh, so a new one to join the club," Squall was still at the same console, typing away. Again, his eyes never left the screen.

"Yeah, so, like, I need something else to do."

"Hold on a second. So now Zell's down there by himself?"

"That new guy, Aidan, is taking care of things."

"Oh, so you met Nida's brother." Silence.

"He's--?"

"Yeah. Just graduated into the world of SeeD-dom. Don't mind the hair, regulations say he's gotta re-dye it or shave it off."

"Poor guy." Irvine flipped his ponytail just for the heck of it.

"Not really," Squall countered, "That guy's got abilites that are off the charts. You know he's 15 now. He came to Garden at the age of 14."

"How'd he manage to pull that off?" "Pretty easy, really. Did you know that all average humans use less than half of their brains?"

"No..."

"Scans show Aidan's using 80%. Physically, he's one of the most fit young boys you'll probably ever find. Mentally...well, let's just say he's some kind of natural phenomenon." 

"Kind of cool. He'll be good for y'all to have."

"Sure will." More silence.

"So, assignments please?" Squall sighed.

"Actually, I was getting ready to do this myself, but it seems like I'm needed here. I'm going to send you to Timber to pick up Rinoa and escort her here." 

_More travelling..._

"Yeah...I guess that'd make sense to bring her to Garden. You're sending me by myself?"

"Yes."

"Anything else?"

"No. You can go now." Now that business was settled for now, Squall had reverted back to his old self, a man of few words.

Irvine had wanted to see Rinoa before, but not like this. Hyne knew what all of this meant, and the last thing he wanted to see was Squall being reunited with his girlfriend while his own was gone...maybe even dead. It was selfish, he knew. Squall wasn't just bringing Rinoa here for his own personal benefit; she'd also be much safer here than with those goofs back in Timber. 

But there was no telling what kind of state she'd be in. For all he knew, he'd be dragging a comatose (again) Rinoa back to Balamb, or, even worse, an insane, traumatized one. Like those that he had seen in the infirmary.

Okay, he was now officially afraid. His hand clenched the barrel of his shotgun to steady himself. There was something solid to hold on to. Something to rely on. There was always something reliable about a bullet. It was straight, fast, and clean. You just had to aim it in the right place and fire; the rest of the work is done for you. Easiest way to get the job done with the least effort. And it was almost never unpredictable. Of course, there had been a few exceptions. Dealing with Sorceresses, one can never tell. But other than that, there was really no other more reliable thing than a loaded gun. He just hoped that he wouldn't have to use his.


End file.
